9/29/09

I am writing today as a new person. Last night was the first full night of sleep I've enjoyed in a week. I feel like a whole new person! A functioning person!

Hell week began last week when Dan took a job working on some computer servers. The servers were apparently in charge of all AT&T's text messages, so blame Spouse for any problems you may have encountered last week. Anyway, the company didn't want him breaking and fixing things during business hours so he started working on them at 10 pm, and coming home around 2 am. Not a problem. Annoying, but fine. Then 2 am turned into 4:45 am. Then 4:45 turned into 8:30,* and all of the sudden Dan was working all night and all day, over and over again.

Zombie Husband!

Aaaaaaaaaaaaand in a strange bout of unexpected co-dependency, I discovered that I have a really hard time sleeping sans Spouse. So I wasn't sleeping at night, trying NOT to sleep during the day in hopes that exhaustion would right my sleeping schedule, and basically trying not to kill anyone.

Zombie Child Bride!

Basically, the only way I survived teaching was pumping myself full of sugar, caffeine, and carbohydrates. I'd like to think I kept it together for my students, but based on the following behaviors outside school, I sincerely doubt it.

Exhibit A:

Telling my friend to just marry her boyfriend "for fun" to see if it would work. I believe I believe I compared holy matrimony to leasing a car, suggesting that she could just end it after a year if she didn't want to buy the car/and/or husband.

I'm pretty sure I was joking when I said it, but still, um, probably one of the more inappropriate comments I have ever made.

Exhibit B:

Numerous rambling, and embarrassing emails sent to several people. I finally made a rule that I cannot respond to emails in my mormonchildbride account until I had slept.

Exhibit C:

Getting a teary-eyed while watching Ellen with my sister Grace. Seriously. The time Ellen gave the stay-at-home-pregnant-with-baby-number-two-living-off-student-loans-with-husband-in-grad-school mom $2,000 dollars and a new nursery? I nearly lost it.

Exhibit D:

Yesterday I went to the library to pick up my slew of adolescent literature, and nearly tore off the librarians head (sorry, Nemesis) when I couldn't make the self-checkout machine work. Or, more accurately, I couldn't make my brain work, and therefore could not operate self-checkout.

It was then that I decided that hell or high-water, I was going to bed. Right then.

Plus, I was out of sour-patch kids, noodles, and running low on Diet Coke.

*The reason for the lateness THAT night was because someone threatened to BOMB the building Dan was working in. And the bomb squad thought that Dan's lone car in the parking lot was part of an elaborate bomb-scheme. Everything turned out fine, but Spouse didn't tell me this until after we'd slept, because I probably would have freaked out.

And that is all. Soon I will tell you about my ADHD student who gets high inhaling hand sanitizer, what blogging-behavior makes me want to kill puppies, my plans for UEA/conference, and possibly about the time I nearly eloped.

9/23/09

Recently, I talked about adolescent (or YA) books I enjoyed, and I promised to tell you about a few I hated. Then I started thinking about it, and I didn't actually hate any of the books I read, I either just didn't like them very much.*

In fact, the only books I truly and honestly despise are ones by Jack Weyland. Not because the writing is mediocre (though it is,) but because each and every book is filled with Mormon-Myth Non-Truths parading around as doctrine, and filling young impressionable minds with terrible ideas about what it means to be a Mormon, or a Mormon woman.

How do I know this? I will tell you. When I was 12, my English teacher caught me reading Angela's Ashes in class. She reported me to my mother, who in turn found herself in the predicament of finding her voracious reader child suitable reading material. (Angela's Ashes is not suitable.) She found Jack Weyland.

Now, before you think about criticizing my Mom, it is important to note that she didn'tintend to give me false doctrine masquerading as literature. She just went to Deseret Book, asked the nice lady for some recommendations for her 12 year old daughter, and went on her merry way.

Furthermore, she also provided me with lots of excellent YA literature, which I still treasure.

Anyway, So I ended up reading a lot of Jack Weyland in my youth. A LOT. Most of them had titles like Mandy, Jessica, Taylor, Nicole, Charly (of course,) Dawn, Rebbecca, Debra and Michelle, Every 1980's Girl Name You Can Think Of, and even one called Stephanie. Stephanie wasabout a girl who dares to try and have a newscaster career, and feel attracted to a non-member, and is subsequently burned in a freak ramen-cooking accident that leaves her disfigured but humbled. Until a return missionary dumps his conceited and unchaste brunette girlfriend for her. But don't worry, her mom and friends made sure to curl her blonde hair, and give her lots of make-up tips, so that she wasn't too ugly and therefore deserving of a husband.

Anyway, I "learned"a lot about life and Mormonism According to Weyland thanks to Jack. Including, but not limited, to the following tidbits of wonder:

1. Blonde girls are righteous. Brunettes are slutty. (Half of all Weyland Novels.)

2. If you sleep with a man before marriage, you can repent, and get married in the temple, but ONLY to a convert who has not served a mission. The atonement only covers so much, people! (Debra and Michelle.)

3. If you are a woman, and trying to pursue a career, SOMETHING BAD WILL HAPPEN TO YOU. Your marriage will fail, you will get burned, or you will sleep with a guy before getting married and then have to marry a convert. (Stephanie, Sam, Charly.)

4. Converts are not as good as born-in-the-faith Mormons. Obviously. (Brittany(?) Stephanie, Charly,)

5. Potentially Dangerous Girl Careers include selling make-up or dresses, or elementary education. These are fine when engaged or first married, but once you get pregnant (hopefully right away,) YOU MUST STOP. SEE NUMBER 3.

6. Girls are horny she-devils who like to get drunk and be bad influences on righteous young men. They should be avoided by return missionaries, and left for those nasty converts not smart enough to be born Mormon. (I am pretty sure this is from Brittany, as well as several others.)7. Similarly, all non-Mormon boys are mini Anti-Christs bent on leading chaste young blonde Mormon girls astray.

I was recently explaining this concept to my friend, who remained skeptical about the crappiness of everything Jack Weyland. I briefly thought that I may have judged them too harshly (wouldn't be the first time,) until I was lent a copy of Sam by a well-meaning neighbor.

I skimmed the copy for a few minutes, before hiding it under a pile of phonebooks. I have a problem where I have to finish every book I start, but I knew if finished Sam I would kill myself with a dull spork.

I think the part where the wife pleads with her estranged husband to "Use your Priesthood to tell me what to do, I don't want to make decisions anymore, since my stubborness has clearly ruined our marriage," and he responds by telling her she "must quit her job and have his babies, because her working is causing God to curse his business" sent me into a 3 day long rage cured only by West Wing and copious amounts of chocolate.

Anyway, the moral of the story is this. Angela's Ashes is not appropriate for 12 year olds. Neither is any Jack Weyland book. Ever.

*I will talk about those other books, but I started talking about Jack Weyland and just couldn't stop. I clearly have deeply rooted issues, and thank all of you who read through this for participating in this session of e-therapy. I think we have achieved a major break-through today.

Update: Apparently the book I thought was called Stephanie is really called Emily. Stephanie is about one of those heathen girls who is addicted to diet coke, I mean, drugs.

9/18/09

School starts so freaking early. I made the mistake of staying up waaaaaaay past my old lady bed-time of 9:45, (opting instead for a way past midnight one,) and now I am paying dearly for my stupidity. Do your eyes burn when you are tired? Mine do.

(It should be very, very, apparent that I am now typing solely to stay awake.)

Anyway, I thought I could get away with staying up late because today I am subbing, and not actually teaching anything. I forgot that you still need sleep in order to maintain basic human functions, like blinking. Also for typing.

How am I able to amuse you with my blogging splendor when I am supposedly working? I will tell you. Today I am getting paid a ridiculous chunk of change to sit in an empty classroom. The kids came in, I marked the roll, and then they were collected by their guidance counselors and taken to some seminar about staying in school, and going to college. (You know, all the usual liberal propaganda.)

I will repeat this procedure two more times, and then, since this teacher has a 4th period consultation (no students,) I will go home early, and still get paid for subbing the consultation period. Even though I am really at home in bed watching Mona Lisa Smile and eating gold-fish crackers and eventually passing out until Spouse gets home. (The life of a Mormon Child Bride is SO GLAMOROUS.)

And while I totally meant what I said (And I said what I meant, an elephant is faithful, 100 percent,) about loving my real teaching job and doing meaningful things, I have no moral qualms about earning money for doing absolutely freaking nothing. None. At all.

I am harboring some qualms about my next plan. Which is to lock the door, set an alarm on my phone, and take a nap under my desk. *

Too far?

*It is either nap, or blog recite more Dr. Seuss. I can recite the entire literary masterpiece that is Go Dog Go. I know. Impressive.

9/16/09

Sometimes I feel bad for being such a grump. Did I really need to call Edward Cullen a twinkie? Really?

Oh well. I've accepted the fact that I did not receive the chipper gene.

However, my unfunemployment ended yesterday, and I couldn't be happier. You should have seen me yesterday. I was so cheerful, and money-earning, and productive! It was like a Christmas miracle!

I am going to tell you something: unwanted unemployment sucks. Being a stay-at-home-wife sucks. Working is awesome. Doing something productive and meaningful is awesome. In all honesty, I am pretty sure all my recent internet-acid fest stemmed from the fact that I was spending a lot of time at home, alone with my books, and the internet. Spouseman was (and still is) working a bajillion hours a day, and then he started his graduate program, and it totally sent me into a vicious shame spiral of jealously and inadequacy. HE GETS TO GO TO SCHOOL AAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNND HAS A JOB? I HATE HIM. I HATE HIM AND HIS PAYCHECK EARNING RENT-PAYING SELF. OH. WAIT.

Unemployment and Graduation have not been kind to me.

I love having a job. Specifically the one I have now. Teaching 1oth grade Honors English is wonderful. My students are like hyper-active Labrador puppies who are so excited to be in High School, they can't even function. I feel like laying down newspaper to protect the carpet.

Even my lone Core (read: regular) class is full of awesome little teenagers who I suspect will continue to amuse me in the coming weeks.

Do I wish it was full time, so I didn't have to supplement my teaching awesomeness with subbing elsewhere? Heck Yes. Do I wish my contract extended past December 7th? Hell yes.

But I'm just so freaking happy to be doing anything, anything at all. Hopefully by the time I'm done with this gig, I can find a more permanent one. Until then, I am just so happy to have a reason to wake up before noon.

And a reason to stop being jealous of my husband's budgeting and ethics classes. Seriously? That is a whole new level of low. Even for me.

9/15/09

If one more Twilight-obsessed functionally illiterate newlywed compares Gale from Hunger Games to Edward *(or swoons over Peeta like he's the reincarnation of the author's weird romantic fantasy, and not a complex and well-written character,) I will probably kill someone.

Or, ever the alternative, quietly mock them on the internet.

*It's like comparing a twinkie to fresh baked bread! It's like comparing kool-aid to fine wine!(Not that I would know, but whatever.)

You can continue the analogies on your own. Just find some mass-produced, mediocre thing, and try to equate it with something well-made and creative.

9/14/09

1. For once, I am not watching West Wing. I am watching Pride and Prejudice. The new(ish) one. (Reminded of it's existence by Nemesis.)

I have back and forth feelings on the film, but overall, I like it. Plus, it is one of the few Austen movies that really convince me that people who are supposed to be poor are actually poor. Remember in Sense and Sensibility (the Emma Thompson one,) when they have to move? And it is supposedly some great tragedy? And then you see their new home, and you think "I'd live there!" Yeah. I just didn't feel a lot of sympathy in that situation. Not based on the visuals, at least.

2. Speaking of homes, we still search. I have about near given up. Do you live in a reasonably priced neighborhood in the general Salt Lake Area? (We are not zip code snobs, when I mean the general Salt Lake area, I mean places beyond Holladay and Sugar House.) Anyway, if you do, will you sell me your house? Or convince your neighbors to move? Think of it! You could be neighbors with an anti-social, perpetually grumpy, and vaguely socially retarded Child Bride! Surely, my presence will increase the value of your property. Plus, Spouseman is very affable and also enjoys gifting people with grubby taps, *ahem, I mean tarts.

3. I simply don't understand the need for overly themed children's bedrooms. Isn't the presence of a child enough to establish the room as a kid's room? Is it really necessary to paint a Buzz Lightyear mural? I maintain that it is not.

4. I like color in a house, really I do. My father painted my sister's room a lovely pale green color. He has several walls painted red, yellow, and blue. It all looks very nice, I swear.

5. I do not like it when the entire interior of a house is painted pink. Every. Single. Wall. I didn't like the view of the refineries either, but the pink....Oh. The. Pink.

6. Frankly, I'd take a Bronte (insert umlauts in your mind,) novel over an Austen any day. But I'd take an Austen movie over a Bronte (umlauts, add them,) in a heartbeat. (Go figure.)

7. How do you add the umlauts?

That is all.

*If you recognize that little allusion:

a. You are a little disturbed.b. You would be good friends with Dan's boyfriend, Derek.c. Seriously. Disturbed.

9/10/09

9/9/09

I really enjoy my youngest brother, the Clark. (If you would like to know a few reasons why, I suggest clicking on the link.)

Clark is the youngest member of our family, and thus, he never really had a childhood. It's hard to want to watch teletubbies when your elder siblings really want to watch Will and Grace.In fact, when you think about it, it is quite the miracle that Clark appears to have grown into a decent 12 year old human being, considering that he was practically raised by a band of cynical heathens.

Perhaps my parents prevailed.

He is kind to the elderly. He is tolerant of small children. He recycles. He likes to read, and only occasionally vandalizes private property. (He and his friends are engaged in a very intense neighborhood-wide toilet-papering war.)

Last night however, he showed his true colors. While driving home from a family activity, my mother asked him,

"Clark, what do you like best about being the youngest child?"

Clark pondered, and responded,

"Well. It is nice that I'm not a retard like the rest of you (looks at nearest sibling.) And that I don't have to follow any stupid rules."

My mother was a bit appalled. I was proud.

It seems as though we (the retards) got to him. Or his other siblings, Jack, Karen, Will and Grace.

(note: blogger published this before I was done, make sure to read to the end.)

Look, everyone, I like to argue. I'll argue about anything. Is the sky really blue? Define blue. What you see is blue I see as......

Yes, my husband is a lucky man, why do you ask?

But sometimes, I get sick of certain arguments. There are just some arguments not worth having anymore. I feel totally fine telling you this, as I am an expert in stupid arguments.

One such argument that needs to be over?

Feminine versus Feminist.

It is better to be feminine than a feminist. I'd rather be a feminist than feminine.This argument is stupid. You can be both.

I think a lot of people fear feminism, because they think it prevents them from living a certain kind of life. From what I can tell, this often, but not always involves staying at home with kids, making dinner for their spouses, not wanting to compete in the workforce, and wearing dresses.

You can do all those things, and be a feminist. That is the point. You can spend the rest of your life raising your children and never receiving a formal paycheck and still want your next-door neighbor to earn as much as her male co-worker at the fancy firm down-town. And still have time to make dinner.

I think people also fear feminism because they don't think they can be equal with men, and different than men at the same time.

Everyone is different. But I can view a working father with the same value as I do a stay at home mom. They play equally important, but different roles.

On the other hand, I think people fear femininity because they perceive it as weak, or somehow degrading. I'm still not sure what it means to "be feminine."

But if it involves accepting the parts of yourself that make you a mother, a wife, or a woman, (different, but equally important as men,) that seems like a logical thing to do. A logical thing to do that still leaves you enough time to be a feminist.

Those feminists were wrong about one thing, though: You can't have it all. Nobody can. But you can have both: feminism and femininity.

Like ice cream! You know how you can get those chocolate and vanilla swirl cones? Who says you have to pick! Take both.

9/8/09

I read tons of adolescent literature. Buckets of it. I once told a former classmate I loved adolescent literature, and she was absolutely disgusted. "Don't tell anyone that! No one will respect you!"

Whatever. I read grown-up books too, and a lot of the time, they aren't nearly as fun. Or well-written.

Thus, for your reading enjoyment, I shall tell you about some of the adolescent literature books I have enjoyed. As a courtesy, I will try and mention if the book has people doing the nasty, or using naughty language, if I remember. I usually don't, I'm a heathen that way. (And read too much Steinbeck as a youth.)

1. The Forest of Hands and Teeth, by Carrie Ryan.

This book is beautifully, beautifully written. That said, it is also disturbing as hell. Basic Plot: Zombies have taken over the world, and it is bad news for remaining humans. After finishing it, I could not stop thinking about it for weeks. It is the only book that has ever caused me nightmares. But it is so beautifully written, and the story is captivating. But be warned, I once described this book as The Road for teenagers. With Zombies. It is also the first of a series, and the other books are not out yet.

(Read if you enjoyed The Hunger Games, which was also very good, and not as depressing, but that is all I will say, because this book has already been discussed to death elsewhere.)

2. Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow, by Jessica Day George.

I read this right after Forest of Hands and Teeth, and it did an excellent job of stopping the nightmares. Strong female central character? Check. Plot based on Nordic fairy-tales? Check. Excellent writing? Check. Love story? Check.

(Read if you enjoyed The Goose Girl. Another excellent, but widely publicized YA book.)

(Also, both Shannon Hale of Goose Girl, and Jessica Day Parker of Sun and Moon, are Utah writers. Represent, Utah.)

3. Princesses at the Midnight Ball, by Jessica Day George.

A retelling of the 12 Dancing Princesses fairy-tale. Light, entertaining, Purged any lingering nightmares from Forest.

(Read if you liked Gail Carson Levine's Ella Enchanted.) 4. The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak.

Another book that seems to have been discussed to death, and that I am very late and negligent in reading. In case you are also late, I cannot recommend this book enough. Told from the perspective of Death, (a personified character,) the book follows several characters living in Nazi Germany. The writing style is uniquely lovely, and I kept wanting to read parts over and over again. This book won the Printz Award for a very, very good reason.

(It swears though, as people sometimes do when their country falls apart.)

On an unrelated note: My husband started reading this book before I did, and said "The Death character reminds me of you." I was offended, until I read the book. Now I am quite flattered, in a strange way.

5. The Graveyard Book, by Neil Gaiman.

I love Neil Gaiman, he wrote one of my very favorite books: Coraline. He's novels are dark, oddly funny, and very well written, and The Graveyard Book is no exception. I will admit that this book is more the late-elementary school level, and should be read with that audience in mind. If I had a kid, we would definitely read this together, which is one of the few things I look forward to when it comes to child-rearing.

(Don't pretend you look forward to changing exploded poopy diapers, never sleeping, and tantrums. You deal with them because you have to, and you love your kid. But you do look forward to some things. I look forward to reading with my child.)

Well, it is now time to admit that I had secret motives with this post: To cure my insomnia to the point that I may be able to sleep. Mission Accomplished!

Goodnight, and Good Morning.

also, later, I need to discuss a bunch of books I completely hated. I shant forget. I think those had more nasty teenagers and naughty language anyways.

9/7/09

I am making no promises about whether or not I make sense in this post. The usual reasons apply. I'm watching the Wing. (Hi. New to this blog? I watch West Wing all the time.) I have ADD. It's late (early) and I am taking a break from sewing.

I ran into a old friend the other day, and then had dinner with her the next week. I was dreading it, because:

1. I am anti-social. My husband is always trying to make new "couples friends" and I respond by establishing a quota for "couples friends" and insisting on sticking to it. I did however, grandfather a few people in. I'm wearing the pants here, not running a dictatorship.*

2. Re-connecting with friends is hard sometimes. I sort of felt like I had made soup (fine, Spouseman had made soup,) eaten half the batch, and then froze the rest. Now I'm trying to de-frost the friendship soup. Now I am ending that analogy, and filing it under "Things about this post that don't make sense."

Simply put, sometimes you realize that when you are 19, your standards for friends are very different from when you are 23. You no longer want friends who aren't friends, but instead are surrogate mothers, or people you use in order to maintain your relationships with other people. (If you are a girl, you have done this. Been friends with someone because they were useful, but not really your friend. If you are a boy, lucky you.) You liked cheese soup a few months ago, but now it is gross. (Analogy still not working? Damn.)

And the friend who can't tell the truth to save her own bum? You don't need that person in your life. And neither does your spouse.

But surprisingly, the dinner was nice. I realized that sometimes I end friendships too quickly. How many years of friendships did I miss because I let distance or time or more stupid, more insidious reasons interfere? In this case, I lost 4.

But sometimes, I'm pretty glad I ended some friendships when I did. I'm a happier, less-stressed person. Plus, their elimination grants me more leeway in adding additional friendships to my quota roster.

So. Tell me what you think. When is it time to let a friendship end?

Can you out-grow a friendship?

Will I ever like cheese soup again?

*If anyone takes that seriously, and comments on it, I will use Google Analytics to hunt you down, and punch you in the face.

9/1/09

I have a billion email accounts. I don't know why, except for maybe I have ADD and like to compartmentalize things. I have an email for this blog, a grown-up email that doesn't make me seem involved in polygamy, (fun fact: most people find my blog by google searching "polygamists") and a random and very old email that houses all my comment notifications.

The very old email is a hotmail account, and I'm keeping it around simply because MSN is just so amusing to me. Everyday, in the sidebar, is a link to truly bizarre and random articles. Top 6 ways to alienate your whole family! Top 7 ways to die unexpectedly! 5.5 ways to ruin your wedding! Today's link: Top 9 Unsolved NFL mysteries.

I always read these, while simultaneously wondering how the heck they came up with their numbers. Top 7 ways? You couldn't find three more to make the normal, and more expected 10? Does Letterman have some kind of copyright on the phrase Top 10?

The wedding lists are my favorite. Apparently, all it takes to ruin your wedding is a failure to serve a favor. Or serve the oh-so-cliched Jordan almonds. Or not send out individually letter pressed thank you cards. Oh MSN. If only you had been to my wedding.

Top 3 Things That Happened at My Wedding Reception, that if I were MSN, I would think Disastrous. But Because I Have Perspective, I Just Find Them Funny.

1. My newly minted brother-in-law showed up to the reception totally high. He stuck leaves in his hair, and made chipmunk cheeks in the family pictures, until the photographer asked him to leave. He then proceeded to hit on my then 14 year old sister.

2. My sister's hair was waaaay prettier than mine*

3. On our way to the reception, my car broke down. Why we were in my POS car and not Dan's nice car is a story that I still do not find funny, and therefore will not discuss. Oh wait. I will. If you are in town for the wedding, and want to turn your trip into an extended vacation, rent a car. Or borrow another friend's. Don't ask the groom for his. He might need that car. To get to his own reception. And then the airport. For his honeymoon. Sheeesh. But actually, my # 3 was really about how because my car broke down, we were late to the reception. And everyone thought it was because we had checked into our hotel early for some sexy times. No one believed the car excuse. I guess that's what everyone says?

Anyway, despite these little snaffus, I still don't think my wedding was a disaster. And I didn't even have individually letter-pressed thank you notes.

*In retrospect, my original #2 seemed mean. Not on purpose, but still. So I changed it to an equally true, but less mean one. If you saw the first version, well, know that I found it more funny and strange than annoying, and I like the people involved.